


I Promise

by i_kinda_like_writing



Series: Would It Be a Sin [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Communication, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Resolution, Sequel, Steve Rogers Feels, a lot of feels okay, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6094999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_kinda_like_writing/pseuds/i_kinda_like_writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About seventy years ago, in a hotel room in a blacked out London, Bucky Barnes told Steve Rogers that they couldn't be together anymore.<br/>Today, Bucky remembers and sets a few things straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Here it is, guys, that sequel I've been telling y'all about. I like it; it's short, but I think is resolves everything nicely enough. To be honest, I wasn't planning on writing a sequel when I wrote the first part, but after hearing you guys' feedback, I decided I didn't want to leave it where it was.  
> Title is mostly about Bucky making himself another promise, this time a little more selfish but a lot better for everyone.  
> So, enjoy!

          Sleep hasn’t been Bucky’s friend since he broke his programming and found a way to piece together what was left of him. He usually wakes up with a jolt, jarring him from a painful memory of his assassin days. It’s like reliving it, having those nightmares. He doesn’t remember any of it until he does, so in a dream it’s like he’s seeing it all for the first time. Which is awful, because he never wanted to do it once, let alone twice.

          This morning, however, he wakes up slowly. The dream he had wasn’t bad in the way they usually are, with blood and violence, but there’s a hard feeling in his chest that tells him it wasn’t good either. As it begins to come back to him, he feels confused, angry, and even more confused. It was a memory of him and Steve, and he-he was breaking things off with Steve.

          He’s had memories of the two of them, their shared nightly practices and the love they felt for one another. The shame that came along with it didn’t even measure against the enormous love that he felt then, and again now. He always assumed that if they ended things, it was Steve who did it, because of Peggy Carter. Bucky couldn’t imagine having felt the kind of love he felt and then _ending_ it.

          But sure enough, he did. Out of some twisted obligation to Steve, he set him free. Not that Bucky’s arguing with his past self, it made sense at the time, but it hurt Steve so much that he’s still angry. In the memory, Steve’s heart was literally breaking in front of Bucky’s eyes and all he could do was watch. During the dream he tried to stop himself, keep himself from saying the horrible words, but like in the nightmares in which he can’t keep himself from killing, it didn’t work.

          The past is the past and there’s nothing Bucky can do about it, but he realizes with sudden anger and devastation that Steve must still think Bucky did it because he didn’t love Steve anymore. Bucky did what he did, apparently, because he wanted Steve to have a good life with Peggy. The house, the kids, the white picket fence. But Peggy’s lived her life without Steve and the least Bucky can do is make sure Steve knows that he loved him.

          He gets out of bed and puts on his usual day clothes and makes his way to the kitchen. Steve has stocked the kitchen with humungous amounts of breakfast foods since Bucky has taken a recent interest in cooking and breakfast is the easiest meal to start with. He starts whisking up some eggs, adding the required ingredients, and tries to put together a nice breakfast. He’s not sure how to approach the whole “love” situation, but starting the day off with a delicious breakfast can’t hurt matters.

          Steve comes stumbling out of his room around fifteen minutes later, woken up by the smell no doubt. He’s sleep rumpled, with the hair on the side of his head pressed flat and then sticking up at the top. When he sits down at the table, he blinks slowly at Bucky and smiles softly. Bucky is astounded that any version of himself wouldn’t want to be with Steve forever.

          They eat breakfast in relative silence, which Bucky appreciates. On top of the awkward conversation he’s going to have to have, he isn’t very good at talking for long times. When they’ve both finished eating, Steve washes the dishes and then goes for his run. Bucky sits on the couch and tries to come up with some kind of opener, something to soften the heavy words he needs to say.

          When Steve comes back, he’s only slightly sweaty from his run but he takes a shower anyway. Before he does, though, Bucky attempts to start the conversation he needs to have three separate times and fails each one. After Steve’s shower, Bucky retires to his room to try and collect his thoughts a little more. By the time he goes back out to the living room, Steve’s hair is dry and he’s halfway through the book he’s been reading.

          “Steve?” His head jolts up at Bucky’s calling of his name and Bucky scolds himself for forgetting to make his steps heavy enough to be heard. “Sorry.”

          “It’s alright,” Steve says earnestly. He closes his book and gives Bucky his full attention. Bucky looks down at his hands, unable to face Steve’s unwavering kind gaze. He sits down on the couch, a decent amount of space between him and Steve.

          “I-I remembered something last night.” Out of his peripheral vision, Bucky notices Steve frowning. He knows that Bucky never remembers good things during his dreams. “It was you and me in a hotel in England. Right after the Hydra base. I, uh, I was ending things with you?” Bucky looks up to see an awful expression on Steve’s face. He’s closed off; eyes hard and mouth set in a firm line. It’s so unlike anything Bucky remembers that the pain of seeing it forces his words out in quick succession.

          “He-I had my reasons. He- _I_ wanted you to have a normal life with Peggy, with kids and a house and-and something _normal_. I knew you’d never end it with me, so I had to do what I needed to do. I know these reasons aren’t very good, but at the time I thought I was doing what was right. But now I want- _need_ you to know that it wasn’t because I didn’t love you anymore; it was because I loved you too much.”

          Steve’s expression has morphed from that awful blankness into a careful wariness. There’s a wrinkle in between his eyebrows and he’s frowning something awful, but he’s emoting, so that’s an improvement.

          “What-” Steve winces, cutting himself off. He takes a deep breath and tries again. “Thank you for telling me that. I’m-” He stops again, staring down at his hands, curled together tightly in his lap. Bucky kind of wants to pull them apart; it looks painful. “I’m not going to lie; it-it hurt. A lot. It took me a long time to come to terms with myself- us- and when you said that, well.” He shrugs. “It kind of felt like my world was ending.

          “But that was a long time ago,” Steve continues, looking up and meeting Bucky’s stare. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way you did back then. I know that we’ve both changed a lot; we’re not the same people.” He takes another deep breath and attempts a smile. It’s small and broken, the corners falling under the weight of 70 years of crap they need to sift through. Maybe even more than seventy years; apparently Bucky Barnes was never really good at talking about his feelings. “But thank you, for telling me. It’s nice to know it wasn’t one sided.”

          Bucky watches Steve attempt to hold his smile up. No doubt, Steve’s trying to keep it plastered on his face until Bucky leaves. He still thinks that Bucky doesn’t see all of his issues. The joke’s on him, though; after enough therapy sessions with Sam to sift through 98 years’ worth of psychological problems, Bucky is ace at identifying mental issues. In therapy, he’d even get praised for noticing that Steve is holding back. So Bucky screws up whatever courage he didn’t have seventy years ago on that cold, awful night and says

          “I know that we’ve both changed, Stevie,” he says, lifting one side of his mouth in an approximation of a grin. He’s trying to lighten the mood. “But, for me, the love. It hasn’t.”

          The fake smile falls off Steve’s face, his eyes lighting up in a way that would outdo a marquee sign any day. He’s trying not to show just how hopeful he is, keeping the rest of his face carefully blank, worried he might be interpreting it wrong, and Goddammit, how could he interpret that wrong?

          “You don’t mean…?” Come to think of it, neither of them was any good at talking about feelings. Bucky laughs, small but sincere.

          “If you let me kiss you, I can prove it.” Steve’s face splits open with such pure joy, that Bucky can’t wait any longer and takes it as consent enough.

          They don’t talk more tonight; they just lie together and bask in the glow of their happiness. But Bucky does make himself a promise, just like he did all those years ago when Steve kissed him in their crappy little apartment; _this time_ they are going to actually fucking communicate. As Bucky falls asleep with Steve’s punk head pillowed on his chest, he thinks to himself that his past self would’ve been proud.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Now everyone yelling at me about how the last one made them cry at three in the morning can fall asleep happy ;) Comments and kudos are always appreciated so leave whichever you want :)


End file.
